


Restless

by vonuberwald (macabreromansu)



Series: Jem Hackett [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Zaeed swears a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabreromansu/pseuds/vonuberwald
Summary: Zaeed wonders what the hell he's still doing here.





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place directly before Tarantism and is part of my attempt to fulfill a promise I made to myself to get more of my OC stuff out there. This piece will eventually have art in it as well.

It took him until the second time they hooked up for Zaeed to remember where he'd seen the kid before. 'Kid' in the loosest terms only, because, _fuck_ if he wasn't the most cocky, smart-mouth son-of-a-bitch Zaeed had set up with in what felt like fucking _years._

 

It was the uniform that had thrown him, the merc decided. The hair, still that shocking white, was neater and pulled back and not the fluffy, sprayed mess that added inches to his height. The fatigues were bulky and nothing at all like the painted on leathers from Afterlife, months back. Although the boneless thing Jem had done with his hips when he danced was, oh, ever-so-present when they fucked and was probably the thing that had tipped him off, he thought, as they were still catching their breath, sprawled on Jem's bunk. Zaeed looked over at the younger man as they were both lazily vying to stay on it, narrow as it was. With his hair spread out over the pillow, his skin flushed with exertion, it was easier to see the once nameless stranger in the club in the man before him now.

 

In _Afterlife_ , the lights and the hazy atmosphere always gave everything a dream-like quality, but there was something too clean, not sleazy or jaded enough about Jem from the moment the older man had caught motion from the bar in the corner of his eye as he waited to see Aria about a job. He stuck out like a sore thumb and Zaeed had watched him laughing at something the bartender said, toss his shot back, (a pale spotlight dancing over the lines of his throat as he swallowed, although the older man was too far away to see the detail of the motion), and then back into the fray, an asari on either side.

 

Countless others beside Zaeed were watching with interest as the young man moved with a boneless grace that easily matched the club's dancers', carefree, eyes closed and laughing more often than not. Then he'd been called in by T'Loak's goons and after that, had thought nothing more of it since then beyond a few moments stolen in a paid room to himself, where only the memory of long limbs and flashing lights were clear in the fantasy.

 

Almost a year later, here he was and here they were and Zaeed couldn't help a slight twinge of unease whenever he thought about it. And he definitely tried not to think _too_ hard because if he did, then he tended to remember just who it was that he was fucking.

 

 _Fuck_. He almost swore out loud then but managed to turn it into a cough just in time. It was a good thing they were both exhausted after a full cycle's work of appointments, reports, (Jem), shooting things to hell, (Zaeed), and a couple rounds of enthusiastic sex, because remembering he was doing the son of _Admiral-goddamn-fucking-Hackett_ would have the killed the mood outright.

 

An hour later, Zaeed was back in his usual spot in the mess, whilst that Allers woman had claimed his old digs on the ship. He hadn't expected to be on board for longer than a week or so, so he'd declined when Shepard had asked if him if he needed a setup, bunking down in the crew quarters when no one else was around or stealing Jem's bunk for a few hours.

 

It had been three weeks since he'd come on board already and he was getting itchy feet without a lot of work coming their way, while the Council still dragged their feet about the Reapers. The occasional jobs they _did_ do, (because Shepard was such a fucking paragon of virtue and couldn't say 'no' to anyone apparently), were limited to taking back the odd facility from Cerberus hands, surveys on colonies that had been hit in the past, resource-gathering, _ad nauseum._

 

Zaeed stared blankly at the square plate of... something in front of him. It was time he moved on. He could always do his own bit for the effort in some other corner of the galaxy. Not like it wasn't all under threat, anyway. So he could get back to... he shrugged as he speared a vegetable of some kind onto his fork and lifted it to his mouth. Omega? Although he'd heard even Aria was having some trouble lately. Illium? The fat cats there were never short of people they wanted rounded up.

 

Whatever. The point was to get away from the potential mess his libido had gotten him into. Although he was sure Jem was as invested in keeping it casual as he was, he didn't want to tempt fate.

 

Mind made up to talk to Shepard and get him to drop in at somewhere halfway civilised so he could at least catch a ship to wherever he ended up, Zaaed finished his food and retreated to an empty bunk in the crew quarters.

 

It was more than past time to move on.

 

 

 

 


End file.
